


First Response

by circlemarriesline



Category: Wynonna Earp (TV)
Genre: F/F, Paramedic AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-20
Updated: 2016-07-20
Packaged: 2018-07-25 13:18:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7534228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/circlemarriesline/pseuds/circlemarriesline
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Paramedics Nicole and Dolls respond to a call in the parking lot of Nicole's apartment complex. Their patient is Waverly, whom Nicole had met once before.</p>
            </blockquote>





	First Response

It was never easy responding to calls in her own neighbourhood. _Was it Cynthia next door? She fell last year. Wayne downstairs? He’s really been pushing himself after his surgery. Has Grace been keeping her meds straight?_

Before she experienced it the first time, she never believed in the feeling that paramedics talk about where they know someone has died before they arrive on scene, but after living it a handful of times her first year on the job, Nicole carried a fear that she would respond to a call only to find the lights had gone out on someone she knew.

Tonight, the pin was dropped close to home - her building’s parking lot - and a knot sat tight and heavy in her gut while her partner, Dolls, accelerated down the narrow side street normally reserved for Nicole’s post-shift walk home. _Female, 21, found unconscious. Minor bleeding from right side. Unconscious and breathing._

The dull glow of televisions that percolated out into the autumn evening’s darkness was soon overpowered when the ambulance turned the corner. Every corner and crevasse of the low-rise apartment complex was lit up shocking white and red. Neighbours watched from their windows in shadow from behind their curtains. Nicole didn’t have to look far to find the small crowd surrounding a young woman. She threw open her door, hopped down from the raised cab, and noticed one of the people kneeling beside their patient had sprung up and started to jog over.

“Hi, thank god,” the woman said before she reached them. Days-old eyeliner was rubbed charcoal around her eyes, but she was anything but disheveled. Panic and adrenaline pulsed through her washed-up-punk-rocker exterior and her gaze met Nicole’s with urgent clarity. She gestured with her hands when she couldn’t find any words, glancing backward to the girl on the ground and ahead to Nicole, who was corralling her bag. Finally, she spoke again. “I’m the one who found her - she’s my sister.”

Nicole nodded and looked beyond her to see someone else join in to hover over her patient. She briskly made her way toward the scene.  
“What’s your sister’s name?” she asked the woman, now striding along at her side.  
“Waverly,” she said. “Waverly Earp.”  
“I’m Nicole - what’s your name?”  
“Wynonna,” came the curt reply. “Also an Earp,” she finished, under her breath.  
“Okay Wynonna, I need you to help me make some space around Waverly.” 

Nicole knew she was good at her job, but this part always reminded her of it. Delegating tasks diffused panic and brought some order. Made her job easier. Brought out the best in people. She found it fascinating the way humans reacted under pressure: with action, with retreat, or with paralysis. She had a knack for bringing out the action in people.

“If you can get them to step back, then we’ll have some room to move. Sound good?” A firm but kind manner had proven to yield respect, compliance, and results in these kinds of high-stakes situations.  
Wynonna’s brow remained knit, but she nodded.  
“You got it,” she said, and turned to the handful of spectators. “Yo, show’s over, it’s time to scram. Go back to your Shopping Channel addictions or whatever.” She started calling out people individually. “You heard me, big guy. Yeah, that mean you, slippers. Hop those bunnies right on outta here.” She made some exaggerated shoo-ing motions toward the few who lingered. The crowd thinned quickly. 

On a back burner somewhere, Nicole was astounded by Wynonna’s effectiveness, despite her unorthodox style, but for now Nicole’s full attention was on Waverly. As soon as she knelt down and saw her face clearly for the first time, she felt a jolt of adrenaline.  
“Dolls,” she said, glancing over at him, “I know her. She just moved in down the hall.”  
As soon as the words leapt from her lips, a police cruiser pulled into the parking lot, adding blue to their lights show. Dolls’ face portrayed a hint of sympathy for a blink of an eye, then returned to professional mode almost immediately.  
“Are you prepared to assess?” he pressed.  
“Yeah, of course,” she responded. He bobbed his head in silent acknowledgement. She began rattling off her observations to him while he took notes.

“Waverly Earp, 21-year-old female, unconscious upon arrival.” Waverly’s chest was rising and falling in a steady rhythm. “Breathing is good, pulse is…” she paused while two fingers pressed a pulse point, “also good. Strong and steady. We have a laceration to the right rib cage, looks to be superficial, but I’ll have to get at it to make sure.” She noticed a dark residue in Waverly’s hair, “…and possibly one on the back of the head. She may have hit her head when she fell.”

“Wallet on her?” asked Dolls, but Wynonna interjected before Nicole could respond.  
“Nah, no purse, no phone, nothing, just her keys - which is weird, you know, because Waves never leaves the house without at least enough stuff to sustain a small intelligence agency. But I can probably answer most of your questions,” she offered. “Or I could run up to her place to see if her stuff is there.” Wynonna pulled a key on a chestnut leather cord from her pocket. “She even got me my own key so I would visit more…” she trailed off at Dolls’ dubious stare. “Yeah, okay, I’m going,” she said, stuck between her terrified urgency to do something and the desire to keep talking to diffuse the tension. 

Once Nicole finished taking stock of her observations for Dolls to record, they decided to put Waverly on a backboard to be safe - they didn’t know what kind of trauma her head and neck had endured. The pair manoeuvred all moving parts, their patient included, into place with expert precision and Nicole began to reassess Waverly’s level of consciousness once again. 

Her knees dug their bones into the asphalt and she spoke in a soft voice the consistency of rich honey.  
“Waverly, my name is Nicole. I’m an EMT and I’m here to help you. Can you hear me? Do you know where you are?”   
No response, but she kept talking while she began working on the primary point of blood loss.  
“Sorry, I have to cut your shirt to take a look here.” In one fell swoop of Nicole’s scissors, Waverly’s snug black top was downgraded to a glorified length of abstractly-shaped fabric.   
“Let’s see what’s going on.” 

Nicole made quick work of the bloodied bralette band, too, to reveal a nasty horizontal gash under Waverly’s right arm. It hot and angry, but already starting to clot. “Superficial. This is good, Wave, really good.” The harsh scent of antiseptic reached her nostrils when she prepared a pad to disinfect the area.  
“You’ll need a little patchwork here, my dear,” Nicole continued, “but it’s nothing we can’t handle together.” She touched the raw skin gently to gauge the wound’s severity and thought she saw a flicker of movement under the closed eyelids.

“Dolls,” she wondered aloud in his direction.  
“Yeah?”  
“You see any shell casings around here? This could be a GSW.”   
“Haven’t seen any, but I’ll get the officers to check it out.”   
“Thanks.”

“This might sting a little,” she said, turning back to Waverly, “but it won’t last long. I’m gonna clean you up a bit, okay?” 

Even unconscious and presumably in some measure of physical pain, Waverly looked peaceful. Her face was relaxed. She had landed such a way that if she was laying on a bed rather than blacktop, she would look fast asleep on her back with one arm reaching for an invisible partner. Beautiful. Nicole briefly wondered if Waverly would remember her, whether she would be comforted by her presence, if she could hear her. If she had thought about her since they’d met. Nicole shook away the invading thoughts and continued in her hushed tones. 

“Your sister’s here and she’s doing a really great job - here it comes,” she warned when she started wiping blood and plasma away. “She threw couple of sweet one-liners out at your neighbours for hanging around.”

Was Waverly’s hand twitching?

“Seriously, she was pretty harsh. Sort of hilarious, which was a nice change, and it worked better than anything I’ve tried. Maybe I should start insulting people until they do what I say.” She heaved a theatrical sigh. “Probably wouldn’t go over too well with my boss.”

That was definitely a hitch in her breath.

“Waverly?” She stopped what she was doing. “Can you hear me?” 

Then, as though her most recent breath brought the thunder of tides through her body, Waverly was back. Her eyes opened and her serene expression vanished, replaced with confusion, pain, and terror in quick succession. The only sounds that escaped her were low murmurs peppered with sharply punctuated breaths.  
“Waverly,” Nicole said again, “don’t try to move, okay? My name is Nicole, I’m a paramedic. Do you know what day it is?”  
“It really hurts,” sputtered Waverly. “I - I think I need to go, there was fighting…” She clutched the sleeve of Nicole’s shirt with her outstretched arm and struggled against Nicole’s hands, trying to sit up but bound by the backboard. Her breathing had become ragged. Nicole could feel the electric panic in her.   
“Easy, easy, you’re okay,” Nicole soothed, “keep breathing. You’re safe.” Her voice was calm but her hands worked quickly. “Do you know where you are?”

“Yeah,” she said groggily. Her eyes scanned their surroundings and Nicole watched her take stock of the lights and the now multiple squad cars parked at various angles on the street and in the parking lot. “Outside my apartment. I took out the garbage and there was yelling down the street. A bunch of men.”  
“Don’t worry, the police are here now and they’re gonna chat with you in a little bit about what happened.”  
“Is my sister here? She was supposed to get here earlier, but…” Waverly sucked in a breath between her gritted teeth. “  
“Wynonna, right?”  
“Yeah,” breathed Waverly. She squeezed her eyes shut against the sting.  
“She’s here. She found you.” Nicole put her free palm down softly on Waverly’s chest. “She did great.” Waverly relaxed against the touch and Nicole felt her heartbeat begin to slow.

She wished the moment could have lasted longer, but there was work to be done. Nothing could be taken for granted yet. She returned to business.

“Can you tell me what you’re feeling other than pain where I’m treating? Do you feel nauseous at all?” She bent further over at Waverly’s side to continue cleaning to the site, but maintained regular eye contact.  
“My head hurts,” she mumbled, “and I’m a little dizzy, but not really nauseous.”  
“Okay, what about your arms and legs - are they tingly? Can you wiggle your toes?”   
“Uh huh.” Nicole looked down to see Waverly’s feet bending and flexing in her sandals. She started to experiment with engaging her calves and Nicole watched her muscles ripple up her legs under her cotton leggings.  
“Nice, that’s great. Any pain when you do that?”  
“Not really.”  
“That’s good news, partner.”

Unbeknownst to Nicole, who was still patching her side, Waverly had released her grip from Nicole’s sleeve and let her hand fall lightly on Nicole’s back to where the end of her braid fell.

“Your hair is so soft,” Waverly whispered. “I wanted to touch it when we met.”  
Nicole was in the midst of pressing a strip of tape over gauze and exposed skin. She stopped in her tracks, floored. She was acutely aware of how close their faces she was to Waverly’s face.  
“You remember me?” she gaped.  
“Who could forget?” A touch of pink returned to Waverly’s cheeks and her mouth curled up into a small smile.  
Nicole’s ears burned and she had to look away to avoid going up in flames, though she was well aware Waverly would catch a glimpse of her grin.

A worried voice interrupted them.  
“How is she?” It was Wynonna. Nicole turned to bring her up to speed and nearly ground her nose into Waverly’s arm that remained draped over her. She put her own gloved hand on Waverly’s, squeezed it, and laid it over her stomach.  
“A total rockstar. She’s back with us now,” Nicole beamed. “We’re almost ready to go.”  
“Hey,” said Waverly as she craned her neck to see her sister.  
“Hey, baby girl,” Wynonna croaked, visibly teary with relief.

Dolls and Nicole lifted Waverly onto the gurney and loaded her into the back; Wynonna rode with them to the hospital at Nicole’s invitation. Once they arrived in the ambulance bay, Waverly took Nicole’s hand before they got out.  
“Thanks,” she said. “I owe you one.”  
“You can buy me a coffee, how’s that?” replied Nicole with a smile.  
“This was worth a hell of a lot of coffees.”  
“I’ll leave it up to you then, how’s that?”   
Waverly glowed up at her. “Fine.”  
“You know where to find me,” said Nicole, winking.  
“I will.”  
“You better.”

**Author's Note:**

> This is the expanded version of Chapter 8 from my fic prompt series, "If I Kiss You Every Time"
> 
> "What is the one most important thing our society needs?"  
> "That would be harsher penalties for parole violators, Stan."  
> [crowd is silent]  
> "And more WayHaught fic!"  
> [crowd goes wild]


End file.
